dual matrix
by Lt Sarita of Vulcan
Summary: UA-- saaviks' parents meet and read to under stand better... r


Title: Dual Matrix

Author: Lt Sarita of Vulcan

Rating: PG

Summary: AU- how Saryk and Nailo met and learned their heart's truth

Note: Told in the first person for both; next work is Saavik and

Spock first meeting then dating (will have Kirk and McCoy in it) Disclaimer: Star Trek is copyrighted by Paramount/Viacom.

Not fair, I wanted it for Christmas . . .

Saryk's view

Saryk lay in her bed wide awake unable to lay his weary mind at ease in this late hour. He glanced over from the firepot to watch her asleep, clutching his arm tightly, her smiling to him even in sleep. Here he laid thinking of how this all happened.

-Months before; docking bay VSI-Ban'Aka-

Saryk fixed his uniform before inspecting new and transferred personnel, inside the bay, they lined up in rows one arm length apart. Saryk and his commander, T'Lye, waltzed in the bay. He stayed behind T'Lye until he saw a Subcenturion with her eyes darting around the room while all others lay on T'Lye. After three hours briefing of the ship and main duties, the group was told to unpack and then report for their next shift.

Saryk watched as this unknown Subcenturion lifted her two heavy bags with ease then, to his eyes' disbelief, floated past his right side, their eyes meeting for a moment. His mind leaped with raw needs and his eyes flamed over. During the next week, he saw her always reading many PADDs as she ate, walking along the halls, or on duty.

After nine days of staring, he arranged for them to work together in science lab seven. When he came into the lab, he found her already at work. Saryk slipped beside her, "Subcenturion, have you been briefed on these studies?"

She closed all open files on her station. "No, Subcommander." She quickly pulled up the unfinished report on the study.

"We are studying these worlds," he sat in the chair next to her, "to better understand why we and other life forms came to be . . . do you understand?"

She swung her chair to face him, and he locked eyes with her. "Subcommander, it does seem logical to do so."

"Shall we resume our studies, Subcenturion T'Nailo?" He pulled up their

planetary scans and data from probes.

For two weeks, they spent all their time working with each other on and even off duty. One evening, Saryk walked into an empty cargo bay to clear his mind in time to see T'Nailo in all black form fitting tank top, pants and very heavy combat boots performing graceful movements as she turned into a 'blind and disarm' combination to spot him standing just inside the doorway, again staring at her.

She finished her last move then acknowledged him. "Subcommander, I apologize for being in here . . ."

As she leaned down to pick up her small bag, he asked, "T'Nailo, where on Vulcan did you learn those moves?"

Her bag slipped out of her hands; she stared at him. "I learned them from a Ch'Vashrek master in my house, Subcommander."

"Would you care for a sparing partner to help you practice?" His eyes looked deep into hers; he saw them change colors, from deep green to purple and then back again.

"That would be logical, but I have not found anyone to work with,

Subcommander."

He walked up to her. "I believe my skills may be as well toned as yours." He removed his uniform shirt to reveal a well-molded body. "You may call me Saryk."

The shirt dropped on her bag as they started side by side, going through the warm ups then moving into the sparing. One or two times they ended up on the floor with one on top of the other. At the end

of that day, Saryk found his body bruised from her blows.

"T'Nailo, this was a good evening." He nodded to himself.

"I do this every day at this time. If you care to join me again, Saryk?" She knelt down picking up his shirt and handed it to him.

He took the shirt, "I may join you again, T'Nailo."

They left the bay. Each evening, they met inside for the next week, each time the same as the last . . . yet this night when he entered, he found her sitting with her back to the door. She had candles lit in the cargo bay with a meal and wine awaiting him.

Bewildered he strolled to her side. "T'Nailo, what is this?"

She answered as he knelt down next to her. "Saryk, I thought we would eat before we began this evening." She poured him some aged red wine, and turned to him as soft music played in the background. She let a very shy smile in her eyes out. "If you do not wish to share this meal, we can go to the . . ."

He took the wine glass. "No, this is fine."

He drank and ate as they talked openly about their time together. He heard her sing softly as the guitar played, 'they cut me down . . . but I leap up high . . . I am the light . . . that will never,

ever die . . . I will live in you . . . if you will live in me. . ."

He guessed she was partly drunk already. "T'Nailo that is nice song. . ."

Their dessert was red fruits and custards. He selected strawberries of the deepest red from the bowl and fed those to her, gleaning certain satisfaction from seeing her lips adjust according to his will, moving forward to capture the strawberry as he held it just out of her reach.

She spotted the marigold custard in a bowl to her right. She eyed him as her mate companion. In lieu of searching for a spoon, she settled on scooping the custard up out of the bowl with her fingers and offering it to him.

Saryk moved forward, his eyes never leaving hers, and took her offered fingers into his mouth, tasting the custard and the astonished expression on her face from his warm mouth.

She attempted to pull her hand away, her eyes already wide, when he caught her wrist and prevented it, drawing with his mouth on her delicate fingers as if to get every last taste. Her pupils dilated

in the glow of the candles, and her mouth open in a surprised 'o' as she felt the softness of his tongue and the grazing of his teeth.

They repeated this game three more times, each turn taking longer then the last, with only short pauses to drink more of the wine. At the end, the other's hands rested on the other's face, and the wine had taken hold of him more with each and every moment.

"T'Nailo, let's get you to your quarters . . ."

Leaning on each other, Saryk and T'Nailo slowly walked through the ship

hallways. The halls were dimmed for the night shift and no one walked passed them. He opened the door, and a small cat jump onto T'Nailo.

T'Nailo's cat had clearly missed her mistress, and sat on the bed while Saryk navigated them to there. T'Nailo whispered soothly as the cat nudged her head, "Mmm, Bast . . ."

Her eyes half-closed.

Saryk watched the cat as he lay T'Nailo on the bed, and then removed her boots. She wrapped her arms around him, and he started as he felt himself being tugged down onto the bed next to her.

"Saryk," she whispered, "don't leave me."

Saryk stayed awake for a time, watching her sleep. It was awhile before he finally succumbed to slumber himself, his arm still captive underneath her, and his hand clutched tightly in her own.

Nailo's view

Nailo's head ached; it felt as thought someone had driven a hot stake into the side of her brain and lodged it there, turning it every few moments.

She hadn't open her eyes yet, but she knew she was on her stomach in bed, her face half-buried in a pillow, and . . . she was still fully clothed? As she stirred, moving her arms to attempt to shrug herself out of the pants, she stopped when she realized she had been clutching something tightly in her sleep, and opened her eyes to look down at it . . .

'An arm?'

She slowly turned her eyes to look at the body attached to it . . . and froze. Saryk was fast asleep beside her, still in his clothes that he'd been wearing the night before. 'He stayed . . .'

She smiled as she watched him sleep. 'Silly Vulcan . . .' She laid there just watching him and remembering the first time she met him in docking bay. As she passed him, their eyes met and she watched his glow. She waltzed into her big mission, and over the next week, Nailo paraded as T'Nailo, Daughter of T'Cons . . . while she collected data for the Romulan Empire.

Then one day in a Science lab, she was copying files of ships' blue prints and other vital data when Subcommander Saryk came into work on the world data. He only looked into her eyes as they worked.

'Does he know . . .'

Every day that week, Nailo played good Vulcan with Saryk until her stress and anger at being so . . . VULCAN got to her. She packed a small bag in Vulcan robes over her old Romulan training outfit to

hide away in an empty cargo bay. Nailo snaked on the jersey she stole way in her gear, and stripped out of the Vulcan tracings to begin her regiment of marshal arts from the war college. After two hours of practicing alone in the big space, Nailo turned in a move to see Saryk

staring at her with his eyes flamed. Her eyes lit with the thought of him wanting her. After a minute, he circled her, looking to strike her side, and she turned his move against himself, landing him on his back in one of her joint locks, until he threw her down to land on her back with him grappling with her.

Nailo began to enjoy the battles with Saryk for the week. Her communication with the Empire's Command included the private

time with Saryk; they sent back an order "Khre'Arrain Ruhe, get information from this Subcommander."

That news distracted her, allowing him one evening to get the upper hand in their grappling until he stopped all together.

"T'Nailo . . ."

She looked at him as she rose from her knees.

"T'Nailo, what is wrong? You are not behaving as yourself . . ."

'I'm not my self here, Vulcan . . . ' She held that thought in, but said, "Saryk, I apologize. My mind is on a personal matter . . ."

She grabbed her gear, only glancing back to see him still topless and watching her run out of the cargo bay.

She hid in her quarters, nibbing on the last of the jerky with her pet on her lap. "Bast, how do I follow this order . . ."

Bast's only reply was a small meow; she scowled on this problem as she settled down in a chair with a small old leather book, reading of Human heart's won and lost with Hamlets' words

_'with this regard their currents turn away, _

_and lose the name of action soft you now!_

_The fair Ophelia! nymph, in thy prison be all my sins remember'd'_

The next day, Nailo asked the mess hall personnel for two meals: a bowl of strawberries and another of custard. She placed them in the cargo bay, left, then returned with her bag filled with pale blue candles to set up around the large space. She lit each one and turned the overhead lighting off. She sat only a few moments before he glided in the room.

Nailo understood what happened now; she studied him as he slept, a rare

opportunity. In sleep, he seemed to lose the hardened expression, the cool mask of indifference, which he normally wore throughout the day. Completely relaxed, with his eyes closed and his dark hair falling across his face, he looked peaceful and gentle . . . even content.

The back of her mind protested. 'You have not done your mission, Nailo . . . he is not even Romulan . . .'

Nailo dismissed the voice as a small smile played on her lips, and she slowly fell back into sleep, watching him.

When she open her eyes again an hour later, he was gone, the indentation of the pillow next to her the only indication that he had been there. She started fully awake, having felt as though she had only closed her eyes for a moment, and in that fleeting blink, he had disappeared. She moved slowly to sit up in bed, and as she did, she felt something on her arm, clasped around it. It was smooth and felt like cool metal, and she lifted her arm slightly to look at it.

It was a bracelet, form fitting to her upper arm . . . embedded in the silver setting was the azure.

'That's from . . . ' She smiled, went into her hall passing the restroom yet hearing water running. She pushed the door open to reveal Saryk washing up, his bare back to the door, his lower half still in his dark slacks. 'He is still here . . . by the elements, why . . .'

He turned with a towel on his shoulders, and a smile shown in his eyes, "I know you're not T'Nailo of Vulcan . . ." The stone face of logic lay on him. "Who are you?"

She glanced down in shame. "I am Khre'Arrain Nailo Nn'Verih'i ir'Rrhu, part of the Romulan Star Command." She turned away in disgrace of her feelings and failure of her mission.

He twirled her to face him once more. "I thought so, T'Nai . . ." He paused, "Nailo, I could not believe it until you admitted it."

Their eyes locked on the others, and she smiled at herself. "Saryk, if you turn me over I will never see you again . . ." She thought of where her Honor Blade lays in her bags. "I must uphold mnhei'sahe . . ."

"You will not do that." He held her close in his arms. "My logic will not let me harm someone I care for in anyway . . ."

Tears came rolling down her eyes. "I don't see how to finish my mission and stay by you . . ."

"We will have to leave when you are done, Nailo." He openly smiled with his face in her hair. "I will not leave you . . ."

After three weeks of added data to her collection, Saryk and Nailo, with Bast as a stowaway, raced to ch'Rihan to her life and from all his his family wishes and his Vulcan. The only thing left for his Commander and his family is the words:

Perception is more pleasing then truth.

Live long and prosper, my Vulcan.


End file.
